Ink Blots
by BreakInCaseOfEmergency
Summary: Meradith risks her life and limb to fulfill her artistic dreams of putting together a collection of pieces centered on the glamorous super criminals of Gotham. Knowing that they most likely will not take kindly to such a show, Meradith prepares to face the consequences of her actions - but is surprised with the events that follow her opening night. PAIRING UNDECIDED.
1. Chapter 1

I can't believe that this is finally happening. After all these months of planning I have finally gotten everything that I need in order to start doing what it is I love the most. I never thought I would be doing something like this, something that seems to suggest that I have a very strong death wish, but as soon as I had the idea inside of my head I just couldn't shake it. So, despite all protests from my friends, I am going ahead with my plan.

It will either be completely brilliant, or, it will go down in flames and me along with it.

Nothing can quite compare to the depressing qualities that a blank art canvas holds, it is an object that is meant to be filled with colour, shape and idea. To see one blank is almost like looking at a lobotomised human, you can see that it exists but it's just not all there. Yet, even though I want so badly to fill it and I have the idea to do so, I just sit here looking at it. It is almost as if my hand is too nervous to begin the work that my brain has already agreed to undertake.

I sigh, my breath gently fogging in front of me. It is a bitter autumn here in Gotham, and my studio is far from glamourous. How can I afford to rent an apartment and a good studio? It's quite simple. I can't. Which is why I'm trying to work in the middle of a glorified warehouse with a measly fan heater by my side to curb the frosty nip in the air.

What I need is motivation.

What better motivation than to think of the subject of my art?

One of the strangest men that I have ever heard of, appeared on the news a few months back and started to cause chaos all over Gotham. Who didn't notice someone causing that much anarchy in the streets, banks were robbed, monuments blown up and people killed on the streets. Even though not all the time the ring leader went out to commit the acts himself, she and everyone else in Gotham knew who was really behind these acts.

But it isn't just him who I find myself drawn to. There's Harvey Dent, the DA who was sprayed by acid while in the middle of the courtroom after which he went off the deep end and formed a criminal tag; Two Face. Not only that but there's The Mad Hatter, a man so obsessed with Alice in Wonderland and headwear that he truly believes himself to be the character from the fiction. Each and every one of the super villains currently residing around Gotham fascinate me, and I want to make a show of work purely inspired by them.

Most likely they are going to seek me out and murder me terribly for daring to do something like this but, I just have this feeling that even if that does happen, this needs to be done. There is just so much there, so much potential that nobody has thought to tap. At least not in the art scene. There is an underground band that cosplays as some of the villains for shows and such, they are very good, and the final push into following my heart in this. They haven't been hurt yet, so maybe the villains just don't care about what the citizens of Gotham do. Everyone is so obsessed with the Batman, they just can't see the mass of artistic inspiration that the villains themselves offer.

My first subject? I have a battle with my brain and my heart on this one, I don't want to seem predictable however as my fingers pick up the nearest sketch pencil I know the villain that I am going to recreate from the elongated curve of the jaw I begin absentmindedly.

Almost as if I descend into a trance, I close off my mind to the world around me and simply think about my subject. I can't just start without having a clear idea in my head as to who it is I'm drawing then it would be sure to turn out wrong. I don't want something like that to discourage me from continuing when there are more than enough external factors to do that on their own. Smiling softly to myself I allow my mind to drift away from everything important and to just think about one thing, and one thing only.

What would the Clown Prince of Crime smell like, if he were to have a smell? Would he smell of gasoline and gunpowder as so many other people thought that he would, or would he be smelling of something else entirely? Did he have a favourite scent from before, that he just cannot stop buying and wearing? No that didn't seem to fit him, too sentimental, too easily traceable. Nobody knew much about him, so perhaps he would have a non-descript scent, but on the other hand I cannot see him simply smelling of nothing.

I imagine a scene, I play out one of the robberies of one of the many banks in Gotham, as if he is right there in front of me. Right away I can catch the sheer nature of him, so focused on chaos and bringing disruption to the seemingly cushy world around him but yet, there is that element that seems to focus specifically on making people laugh. A hard feat given what most of his activities are. That must be why he invented that weapon, Smilex, to make every see the funny side of what he's doing that only he previously could fathom.

If I were to study him in this memory closely, like a paused film, and zoom in the things that I would pick out are completely different to an offhand glance. True the scars are still a major part of his appearance, and also his super villain name sake, but his eyes hold a much deeper story. There are crinkles around them, are they from laughter, or are they from a time where there was stress in his life? Not to mention the depth of emotions that could splay across those eyes, cold and hard one moment but holding a spark of laughter the next.

Unsure of how long this has taken, I find myself not caring two hoots. Now I know what this painting is going to be about, what the most important element is going to be. The complete air of unpredictability. It's pretty clear that I'm going out of my comfort zone for this one, but I have the feeling that it is going to be more than worth it in the end.

xXxXxXxXxXx

If it isn't for the sudden phone trill of my ring tone, breaking my concentration, I wouldn't have known how long it's been since I started working on the Joker portrait. Even now I am slightly irritated at the interruption, I am so close to finishing that I know that I can get the basic outline completely down by the end of the day. There's been so many times where I've wanted to rip out my hair in frustration, but, I kept at it. The only things left to do now are the inconsequential fillers, the detail on the background and such.

Picking up my phone I answer it as cheerfully as I can, you never know when it might be an art collector calling by to inquire about some work. I'm not holding out much hope on that front.

"Hello you've reached Meradith Astraphel of Nex art studios how may I help you?" I greet, twirling a strand of my wild auburn hair around my finger.

"Hey! This is Kaspar from Venom."

Of course I completely forget about the job that could be bringing me money in immediately in favour of working for my show, which is only a distant possibility at the minute. I almost slap myself I feel so idiotic for letting this chance potentially slip through my fingers.

"Oh hey, I'm sorry I know I was meant to give you a call but…"

"No worries, we were just wondering if you were still game to design those flyers and poster art for us? We've got a gig coming up in a few days and we'd like to see your stuff before then if, you know, you'd be ready in time?" He sounds slightly peeved that I have forgotten but then again, most professional people won't touch their band with a ten foot barge pole. Kaspar is the front of Venom, the band that like me uses the villains of Gotham as their inspiration for song and stage costume.

"I'll have them ready in two days, three days at the most, will that be enough time for your guys?" I ask, doodling down the date I needed to have these finished by, and what I remember of the specifications from last time beside it.

"Yeah that's okay, so will you come down to the club Wednesday, around nine and I'll see what you've cooked up." He states, although I can sense the enthusiasm rising in his tone and I can't help but match it in my own voice. Seeing someone like my work so much, always makes me feel happier in myself.

"Definitely, I'll be there with time to spare."

"Alright see you there. Bye."

As swiftly as the phone call had begun it ended, and I rub my eyes tiredly, the weight of the work that I've been doing swiftly crashing down on top of me. There is so much work to be done but to do it now, when I'm so tired would mean it would come out completely rubbish. I don't want to ruin what could be a long term chance with Venom. A career like mine doesn't inspire regular income often, to ruin a chance like this would be insane, literally insane.

Deciding that I should head back to my apartment, I check the canvas I've been working on one last time, unable to stop my wide grin. It's amazing, even if I do say so myself, and when I add colour then it is only going to get better. No watercolour, no pastels but bright colours. In fact, I'm planning on using nail varnish on a gloss background to make the shining quality of the varnish stand out. The scent of the acetone in the liquid seems to fit with the Joker, maybe it reminds me of the incident at Ace chemicals that gave his skin that signature white colouration?

With a cheerful sigh I place the canvas under a protective covering and leave it on the easel. I pick up my bag and shrug on my hoody before leaving the studio locking it securely behind me. Stepping out onto the wet Gotham streets, I glance around swiftly, even though it isn't one of the worst neighbourhoods, crime is literally everywhere and I don't want to be walking out into something I could have avoided if I'd just looked. The street is deserted though, and there are no sounds of fighting or explosions nearby, so I step out, ready to begin my way home.

I only live two blocks away, but the cold fresh air does me the world of good even in the short time it takes me to get to and from the studio. Taking in a deep lungful I tilt my head to one side, regarding a tree which has one side charred by a bad fire that had taken place in the liquor store across the road a few months ago. I remember that night vividly, and am still thankful that the robbers came nowhere near my apartment complex.

Not minding the puddles on the cracked sidewalk, I almost bounce across the street to my apartment block the walk having significantly lifted my mood along with the offer of getting paid still being on the table.

As I enter the building I give a nod to the guard on the desk and head up the stairs, wanting a little bit more time to think as I wander along. I've never really dreamed of being famous but, if my little show were to make me famous in the future it would be amazing. I would never have to struggle for money again or live off instant noodles, and my art would always be in demand. Running my hand through my hair I cannot contain my grin at the thought of mingling with the higher society, still dressed in my Doc Martens and ripped jeans. Now that, that is a wondrous thought right there.

I live on the fourth floor of the building and as I approach my flat I see one of my neighbours exiting. He seems pleasant enough whenever I see him but, this area is popular with members of criminal gangs. The higher up members anyway who get paid slightly more. I'm not really familiar with how the pay scale works though.

"Hey." I smile softly, nodding in his direction.

"Hey yourself." He replies with a crooked sort of grin, which doesn't contain any malevolence, merely a hint of playfulness.

"I haven't seen you in a while, everything okay?" I inquire, not wanting to end the conversation there, it's been a while since I've talked with another human being as I've been locked away working and it feels good to have a conversation.

"Oh yeah, yeah just…you know work stuff. You look dead on your feet Meradith."

"Yeah well you don't look like a model yourself Zane." I tease, placing my hands on my hips, and eyeing the bruise over his left eye "If you must know I've been working on pieces for a new show."

The vacant expression on his face makes me grin a little bit and I shake my head. Since we have not really talked much I cannot blame him for not knowing what I do for a living, I only know what he does because I got nosy and asked the neighbour in the middle of us what she knew about him. As an elderly woman she was around most of the time and often got most of the gossip.

"I'm an artist." I explain, and a light clicks on behind his eyes.

"Well that's cool, I had a cousin who did an art class in college I think."

"I don't expect you to know everything about art just because I do you know." I smile softly "But hey if you would like to come to see the show when I've finished please do, I'll put an invite through your door."

I turn and slip my keys into my door, unlocking it with a quiet click, before turning back to Zane with a friendly smile.

"Yeah, uhm, sure." He states, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly "I'll see you around then."

"Yes I'll see you soon I'm sure." I grin, giving him a little wave before entering my apartment.

Sighing blissfully at being back in my small, but cosy apartment I lock my door again and swiftly kick off my oversized boots to get comfortable. There's just something about getting home that's severely relaxing. I glance at the time and even though it's only five in the evening, I know that I've been working for three days at the studio with only small naps serving as my sleep. What I want right now, is my bed, and when I get there I'm not going to leave until lunch time tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days pass in a flurry of artistic mess and I cannot help but feel like I've gone ten rounds with Killer Croc by the time I've finished my commissioned work. Despite not wanting to really go out tonight, I know that I have to in order to deliver the posters and flyers to Kaspar and the rest of the band. They had forgiven me for forgetting about their project last time but if I flake out tonight I'm pretty sure that they won't want to deal with me in the future.

Sighing softly I gather up my things, including the folder filled with the art that they had requested, and slip them inside my messenger bag. Freshening up after all that time stuck in the studio had been amazing, and even though I'm tired I'm looking forwards to going out and seeing the show tonight. It will be a good way to celebrate finishing that project of mine.

As I go to leave I'm tempted to slip into my pumpkin coloured duffel coat, it's still freezing out there but it's hardly proper attire to wear to a rock gig so after a few moments of dithering I choose to sacrifice my health to looking good for the evening. Beginning my ritual before leaving my house, I open my bag and give a glance to the contents within;

"Purse, check. Keys, check. Make up, check. Mace, check." I hum to myself as I absent mindedly check the items off.

Mace is needed wherever you go in Gotham, I've heard too many horror stories that could have easily been prevented by having a can of mace or small switchblade in your possession. It makes me feel more secure. I'm honestly surprised though that the criminal underworld aren't building up a tolerance for the stuff, the amount of times they must have been sprayed with it.

Locking the door behind me as I leave the apartment, I sigh gently, sometimes I think that I work too much. Art isn't really work, but the exhaustion that comes with the all-nighters I have to pull is really starting to take its toll on me. It serves me right though in some sense, I should be more organised to actually do the things on time instead of waiting for the muse to come to me. That would be the sensible thing to do but, then again, you can't rush art.

The club is a few blocks away down by the Narrows and I hurry to it, I don't want to be out on my own on these streets for too long. I have been incredibly lucky so far, while I've lived here I've only been mugged twice on my way to and from somewhere but I still don't want to take the risk of my luck running out.

Every now and again a car roars down the tarmac, the only sound apart from my heels click clacking on the pavement slabs and somehow each time it makes me start a little bit. I'm too on edge. Whether it's more due to the caffeine I've been consuming or my location I'm unsure.

Eventually I arrive at the club, not even needing to show my ID, and I step inside glad of the warmth.

Spotlights, bright white pillars of light float around the room, and a dreary voice drones on and on about some depressing topic. Honestly I'll be glad when Venom gets on stage, their music is much livelier than this guy but he's only the opening act of the evening so I can't do him that much discredit. Casting my eyes around the room I spot the corridor leading backstage where the band is sure to be, and slip through without anyone even questioning me. The lack of security in this place used to unnerve me but now it's more of a convenience, I don't have to mess around with security and passes.

Catching sight of myself in the reflection of one of the dressing room mirrors as I pass, somehow dressed as I am I still don't really look like I fit in here. My eyes are far too vivid, far too large to be considered normal. I always loved them but, sometimes people are unnerved by how wide my irises truly are. Unfortunately my hair, untameable as it is, makes me head seem twice as big as it really is but I love that too, the colour fascinates me. It is vivid also, a shining dark orange. I have a few freckles dotted about the bridge of my nose, standing out against my pale white skin.

Overall, even though something seems skewed about me to most people I'm comfortable with myself. I came to accept my gangly long limbs a while ago, and even though I'm not particularly curvy I'm not a washboard either. I don't think I would change anything about myself even if Bruce Wayne gave me a check for any surgery of my choice. Not many people can say that about themselves and it makes me proud.

With a soft knock, I rap my knuckles upon the bands dressing room and wait for it to open. I see Kaspar standing there, his Joker make up half done and his purple suit on already –probably so it wouldn't be covered in paint if he put it on after his make-up. I grin brightly up at him and he returns the smile.

"There you are, we were worried that you weren't going to show." He states, jokingly, as he stands aside letting me enter the dressing room where the rest of the band is gathered.

"Yeah, you know I thought about not coming but…I didn't know how you would survive without seeing the art of epic proportions I've made for you all." I tease, pulling the folder out of my bag that contains the posters and flyers they've asked for.

"Great, let's see them then."

I open the folder, slowly. I'm slightly nervous about what they are going to think about them, honestly I get this way when anyone is looking at what I make. Criticism I can take, but, only to a certain level I don't like people flaming my work when there really is no need. Drawing out the art I lay them down on the dressing room table.

Five different styles of flyers with one of the band members faces on each, made up in their stage costumes, and one style of poster with all five of them on it and the latest tour dates and venues.

Drawing Ethan, who dresses as Killer Croc was the hardest to draw. The scales that dot his face when he's wearing his make-up were hard to recreate on canvas and needed several drafts but I think that I got it down by the third try.

Silence flits across the room and I gulp softly, my eyes locking worriedly from member to member to try and gauge their reactions. Hopefully they would like them, otherwise it would have been two days of work completely wasted. There's a sly smile on Kaspar's face which is one of the only clues I can garner about their reaction to the work.

"Well, what do you think?" I ask, getting slightly irked by their silence.

"I can't believe that we managed to pick someone like you up off the streets, honestly. You're pretty good Meradith, I think they're real good." Kaspar grins.

"I think mines the best like." Ethan chimes in "Those scales look bloody realistic."

I grin brightly, glowing with the small shreds of praise. Many people think that art is all about self-expression, not about what other people think of what you do and to some extent it is but...I can't help but feel even better about myself when I see people loving my work. I feel even better now because I know for sure that they are going to buy the art off of me, and I'll have some money coming in to pay the rent with.

"Oh thank you! I'm so glad that you like them. So, the big question is are you happy enough to buy them off me?" I ask, clasping my hands in front of me slightly nervously.

"Of course we are, weirdo." Kaspar jokes, shaking his head as he chuckles "We'd be stupid not to, how much do you want for them?"

Pricing is something that I thought about long and hard when selling my art, they are expressions of myself in a way and I'm selling them. This makes me want to drive the price right up but, another part of me wants to give it away for free as long as the person loves it then it's going to a good home. Of course, my logical brain suggests a compromise between the two. I do need to eat after all.

"Uhm, normally I'd charge £50 per flyer sized piece and £100 for the flyer so £350 overall." I stated nervously, hoping that they wouldn't think that it was too expensive.

"Pfft, is that all?" Ethan snorts "Girl we just got sponsored by a major brand, so since we don't need to lay out money for equipment any more we can afford to spend more on advertising and sh*t. For something this good I think we can do a little better than that don't you think?" he asks the rest of the band, although not really waiting for their permission before deciding on paying her more.

Kaspar nods along with him though and traipses over to a cash box in the corner of the room, fiddling around with some notes before eventually deciding on an amount and heading back over to me money folded over in his hand.

"I think that we can." He smirks, placing the money in my hand gently "Here's £500, and whenever we want new art, we know who to come to right guys?"

"Damn straight." They reply in chorus.

Glancing down at the money in my hand I blink a little shocked, I am glad though that they paid me a little more. The £350 would have paid my rents and given me the smallest amount of money left over but now I had a lot left so I could afford to get myself some extra luxuries maybe even some more paint supplies I need. With a grateful smile I slip the money into my purse and shut my bag tightly.

"Thank you." I whisper softly, to which Kaspar only nods and Ethan sends a grin my way before going back to the make-up chair to have his scales finished.

"Now all that boring business is taken care of, you are going to stay for the show aren't you?" Kaspar asks, picking up his guitar and plucking at the strings absent-mindedly.

"Oh of course I am! I've been looking forwards to it." I reply with a gentle smile.

The thought of the show was one of the main driving forces that got me through the days of working on the pieces, not to mention that doing so actually made me really excited to see the band again all dressed up in their costumes. Their act really is amazing and I'm not surprised that they got sponsored by one of the bigger labels. Glancing around the other members I see: Noel, who is fiddling with his monocle trying to make it sit right; Veronica who turns this way and that in the mirror, trying to fix her headband just right in her blonde hair; and Jake, who is still having his make -up done. It looks like it takes forever, having a whole side of his face done in that burn effect.

It's like stepping into my own little fantasy world. Besides, this is as close to the Gotham Supervillains I'm ever likely going to get.


	3. Chapter 3

Excitement bubbles through my veins as I get myself ready for the big night. The opening night of my show has rolled around and there are all sorts of influential art buyers and high flyers in society coming to view my work tonight! Of course they didn't really know what the subject of my work was and they might be in for a little bit of a surprise. Lots of them probably weren't going to like the fact that I'm humanising the villains that make their lives so difficult but all it takes is one person to like a piece and it would sell.

I step into my high heels, deciding for once that I would be feminine. Shedding my usual jeans or shorts I pull myself into a pale mint green dress which hugs my body nicely, stopping just above my knees so that my long lithe legs can be seen easily. The silk material makes me feel so grown up, as does the professional make up that I've had done. I need to look nice for the opening night, the rest of the nights I can tone it down a little bit. The party tonight, though, needs to go well.

Giving up on trying to style my hair into any sort of nice shape, I merely leave it loose running down my back in its messy waves. My make up kind of matches that style, simple and elegant, almost as if I'm not wearing any at all.

With one more glance at the clock I squeak happily and make my way out of the door, a part of me wants to go and check in on Zane, I had asked him if he wanted to come last week and he said that he did but…since then I haven't seen him. Maybe he'll turn up at the venue tonight? Despite not knowing him very well, it would be nice to see a familiar face for a little bit of support. Then again Kaspar and Ethan were coming sometime too, both eager to see my collection.

Gathering my wits, and courage, I swiftly march into the taxi waiting below for me and I am off to one of the bigger galleries I could find, although it is still rather near to the Narrows. Hopefully my event won't attract some unwanted attention. Would I want to see one of the supervillains though? It's something I've been thinking about for a long time, daydreaming over while I finished my work. Nothing would be greater than to meet the subjects of my art and get their feedback…if I didn't think that their feedback would be a bullet to the face, or being dipped in acid, or being eaten alive.

A few minutes later I arrive at the gallery and see that the pictures are already put up waiting for people to come in and start having a look around. Instead of separating them into subject, having a wall for The Joker, and a wall for Harvey Dent I have mixed them all together. It seems much more chaotic this way and much more in keeping with the theme of the show.

Drinks are all set, food is ready and tasting good and all the pricing stickers and stock are organised right. The only thing left is to wait for the guests to arrive.

And arrive they did!

Nearly everyone I had invited showed up, and although some of them immediately leave after seeing what, or rather who, the subjects of my art are the majority do stay and seem genuinely interested in the pieces and the thoughts behind them.

"So Ms. Astraphel, whatever would inspire you to make such a moving piece about such a low life criminal as Mr. Freeze?" A rather nasal sounding woman asks, being rich and obviously interested in the piece I feel obligated to be nice to her so that she would be interested in a sale. On the other hand Mr. Freeze is one of the villains in Gotham that I find myself sympathising with.

"Well I am inspired by his depth of feeling, his strength of love. He became the supervillain and the man that he is today by searching for a cure for his wife when nobody else would. I admire that devotion that he has, and I thought I would put that into the artwork of him." I explain with a gentle smile.

The woman does not seem to be satisfied though and shakes her head, crossing her arms about her chest, and I try my best not to become argumentative with her. She is a customer and customers are always right. Even when they're not.

"Anyone in a healthy mind would have accepted the death of their wife and moved on. Such a man is clearly disturbed." She states, nodding her head firmly at the end of her statement.

"I don't disagree." I laugh softly "However you have to admit that it makes one amazing piece of artwork."

The mood seems to shift back to being agreeable and I deem it safe to move on and speak to another client. Hopefully not everyone in the room will be so confrontational about my work although I don't hold out on that, it takes an open mind to think of these destructive forces in any other way than being just that – a destructive force.

I'm about to grab a second glass of champagne and search around for Kaspar when I hear a loud crash, a tinkling of breaking glass. Fearing the worst I grab for my purse and place my hand on the cool comforting metal of my revolver, I thought that I would get away without being robbed tonight but it is always best to be prepared just in case something happens. It appears like that something is happening now.

Harsh male voices grunt and exclaim, telling people to give up their valuables and to get into the center of the room. My breath catches in my throat and I draw my gun completely from my purse before sneaking around the corner of the gallery, out of my little office. They haven't noticed that I'm not there but they're looking, and asking people about where I am.

Unfortunately the old woman from before spots me and all but shrieks out my location. So much for the element of surprise huh?

Very shakily I step out from my hiding place, holding my revolver out ready to shoot if needs be. Things looked bad, these were gang members to one of the massive super villains. From what they are wearing it's all too easy to figure out who they work for – Two Face, Harvey Dent. Gulping lightly I can feel the panic welling up inside of me, but also the thrill. I am about to come face to face with Harvey Dent!

I can see him right there, standing in the center of the circle, back to me.

"And who thinks that they have the right to paint pictures of us? **We don't like it when people do things without our permission. **What did we do to the last guy who did that?** We left him to dissolve in a vat of acid. **Yeah, we did. **That will teach him not to fear us."**

Bile rises in my throat and I try to steady my fast beating heart but find myself completely unable to do so. He's going to kill me. I knew it the moment that I started this project that one of these guys would probably kill me I just hoped that I would have one night of my show before that happened. I have to do something, anything to get onto his good side.

"Mr. Dent?" I call out softly, my voice coming out much more gentle and composed than I thought it would do "I uhm, I am the artist you're looking for."

The moment he turns, and looks me in the face, I don't think I could have prepared myself for. I knew from seeing photographs and news reports that the burns were bad, but I did not think that they would be so severe. Not looking for long though, only a glimmer of a second I try to keep a little smile on my lips even though it is probably more like a grimace, or so tainted with nerves it is amusing to witness.

"How many pictures do you have of us?" Dent asks, quite calmly actually as he flips his coin from finger to finger.

"I…I uhm have four pictures of you at the minute sir." I inform.

For the first time Harvey seems to notice the gun in my hand and he raises his own, his lip raised in a snarl, giving a frightening effect. Gasping in shock I feel my grip on the heavy metal weapon loosen considerably. I can see that, although I thought I had better protect myself tonight, one gun is not going to do much against a mob of Two Face's men, and the man himself. In fact it only seems to anger the man so I very slowly place the gun down on the floor, hoping that this will placate him slightly.

Drawing away I hold my hands up in the air and try to take deep breaths, I can almost feel the panic attack rising up within me and that's not good. If I start to panic too much I won't be able to answer Harvey's questions, and if I don't do that then there is no telling what he will do to me.

"**We want to see them, and if we don't like them…**We'll let the coin decide what happens to you." He growls, stepping closer to me and I try to put a better smile on my lips which is a hard feat given how frightened I am. Not by his appearance but, the fact I can sense the power he carries with him rolling off his body in waves, he has goons surrounding me just waiting for orders to kill or torture me. I'm not going to do anything stupid to provoke Harvey.

"Of course, I'll show you to them sir." I assure, still being polite as possible as I walk with Two Face over to the first of the paintings just around the corner.

As we stand in front of the first set of portraits, my breath catches in my throat as I chance to look upwards to see the expression on his face. It seems neutral and that is all that I can hope for at the minute. I can't help but start to compare the painting I have done to the man beside me, nothing could have prepared me for the sheer sensations that accompany the man and all I can hope is that I have managed to pin some of them down onto canvas.

The two separate canvases that make up one picture, each one showing one side of Harvey's personality is one of my favourite pieces in the show. I spent so much time trying to get the emotions right that I found myself quite invested in the portraits.

"Tell us about them."

"W-well uhm, I chose to use two canvases to paint this piece because of your dual nature. Despite being united in one body it is quite obvious that there are two distinct sides to you. The left canvas is focusing on what I think is the remainder of Harvey Dent, as a result the colours are light grey; Gotham's white knight is slightly tainted by the hardship that has ensued. The right canvas is depicting Two Face, and focuses on dark reds and rusted brown tones to symbolise anger and decay." I bite my lip nervously and take another glance up into Harvey's face, he's looking down at me and doesn't seem to be angry at what I am saying which helps to calm me down.

Obviously I am completely wrong on that count.

His gun is in his hand again and pressing against my temple quicker than I could have prevented. Gasping in shock I hold my hands up again in a gesture of surrender, I don't know what he disagreed with in my thinking but I hope that I can talk myself out of this difficult position. Even though I admitted the chance of death or grievous bodily harm is likely I still want to do everything I can to avoid it.

His eyes are filled with thunderous rage which makes my heart quicken to a new pace, I can feel my body trembling as his gravelly voice growls in my ear.

"**Which reaction do you want first? **Let's let the coin decide." He states with a smirk.

My eyes widen as the coin is flipped up into the air, hoping beyond hope it comes down on the side that is not going to get me killed. His smirk turns vicious as he awaits the coins verdict, and seems almost slightly disappointed when he uncovers which side it has fallen down on. A breath I didn't know I was holding in releases itself and I wonder how many more of these close calls I would have tonight – luck could only get you so far.

"You are wrong." He says simply, gesturing to the lighter half of the piece "I am concerned with justice, and making sure that everything that we do is fair. That is the most important thing. **I want anarchy and chaos, to make every citizen in Gotham fear us. That is the only way that we are going to get any respect around here!"**

The element of chance, I know is so key to understanding Harvey's motives and it is something that although it not present in these two pictures, it is in the two others that I have in the gallery. I just have to gently push him over to them, maybe it will calm him down to see something that is more relevant to him. I can feel the pressure of his gun's barrel against my temple lessen slightly and I can only hope that he's decided not to kill me for the time being.

"I'm sorry sir, I realise how important the element of fairness is to you and I have other paintings with that in mind i-if you'd like to see them." The stammer in my voice irritates me a little bit, I would like to seem more composed but I have a gun pointed at my head. I think I can be forgiven for being a little shaky.

A small chuckle escapes Two Face's throat and the metal vanishes completely from my head, making me smile nervously up at him. He folds his arms around his chest and taps the gun rhythmically on them. I gasp and realise that he's waiting for me to take him to the other pieces which I do so hurriedly. They aren't too far away so I make it there without tripping up over my feet or breaking something with my nervousness.

These two pieces are much smaller but they still are detailed, the main element of them is the coin that Harvey is so famous for using. One picture has the outcome where the hostages in the scene are released without being harmed, and the other…well is a more gruesome alternative. Hesitantly I hover by Harvey as he looks over the paintings with a neutral expression. Gulping softly I feel my body screaming at me to try and escape, to try and do something to get this guy out of here as quickly as possible.

I am honestly surprised when I see what could be considered a very lopsided smile on his face, which gives me a little bit of confidence back.

"**Now these we like." **He chuckles, the sound is raspy, dry in his throat and I feel my smile growing. Oh thank god, he likes them. My life is saved!

"I'm very glad that you do." I admit with a soft smile "If I was ever able to meet one of my subjects in person, I would hope that they would like my work."

"It's all about chance." Harvey murmurs softly, almost to himself and his fingers reach out to brush against the gentle brush strokes that have created the coin on both of the pictures "That's the only way."

Not commenting, not daring to, I simply take the opportunity to look over Harvey when he seems to be in one of the strangest and illusive moods that I've seen. The fact that he's commenting so openly in the presence of someone he barely knows is strange, but I'm grateful for it. It gives me an insight into how he works, and it's obvious that he is a lot more intelligent, and emotive than Gotham's public give him credit for.

I'm about to speak up again, to suggest that he can simply take the paintings if they mean all that much to him when his gun snaps up to my face again and he cocks the trigger. Gasping in fright again and close my eyes and scrunch up into myself, waiting for him to shoot me.

"**We'll be taking these, girl."**

I nod my head slowly, and raise my head to meet his eyes which are filled with that same fury as before. Harvey can change so quickly, even though I'm aware of his duality it's still shocking.

"Of course, thank you." I smile gently "It means a lot."

"**What?"** he spits out, tilting his head to one side as he regards me.

"It…It m-means a lot that you like them so much you want to take them with you. T-that's all I really aim for." I explain, still shaking slightly under his gaze, the barrel of his gun not too far away from me.

Harvey snorts, and clicks his fingers, to which I whimper and hug my arms around my chest I thought the clicking was the gun getting ready to fire. I should have known that it wouldn't be that. It didn't even sound metallic, but in my panic I can't help but believe the worst.

I watch as the two pieces are removed from the wall by one of the goons, and carried away. Two Face gives me one last glance before turning on his heel and making his way out of the art gallery, lowering the gun again as he does so. I can feel my heart almost bouncing out of my chest I'm so anxious, I grab onto the nearest table so I can steady myself and try and stop shaking so much but it's in vain.

All of the goons rush out of the door on Harvey's command, and I hold my breath thinking that he'll be leaving now too. Despite wanting to meet one of Gotham's super criminal's I'm not sure that I was quite ready for it tonight.

Almost casually Two Face turns in the doorway and smirks back at me;

"There best not be an uneven number of paintings in this room, girl. Or I'll be back to correct your mistake tomorrow."

And that is that. He leaves through the door, into a nearby waiting car. I don't release my breath until I hear the sounds of cars screaming away down the streets, by which time I should be right be a shaking mess on the floor but I'm holding on by a thread. There are still guests here after all. Gulping softly I grab the nearest champagne tray and down a flute as swiftly as possible, and then another, and a third for good measure. Taking deep breaths I don't blame the guests for murmuring their appreciation for the show, and not getting them killed, before promptly rushing out the door to their own cars nearby.

Groaning lightly, I whack my head on the table top and sigh. This isn't how I wanted the opening night to go, and I can't help but think who else might turn up. If Two Face has shown, word is going to get around the Narrows, and anyone could appear tomorrow night. A prospect which both terrifies and excites at the same time.


End file.
